Hi, friends — this is issue #12 of my Friday newsletter about animal encounters. This week I was inspired by the news of a snowy owl in Central Park. Let’s take a closer look at Bubo scandiacus. — AJP
When I was a kid, we had a big framed photo of two snowy owls in our living room. I must have looked at those birds thousands of times, their bright yellow eyes looking back at me, calm and steady. So, whenever I see them now, it’s like I’m back in my living room, 12 years old, trying to imagine what they were thinking.
What are they thinking? The appeal of snowy owls is tremendous, their beauty magical. They live in Arctic regions of the world and are one of the largest owls, sporting an incredible wingspan of 4 to 5 feet (larger than great horned owls). Their dense plumage keeps them warm, and they blend easily into the landscape. Males are snowier than females, and they become even whiter with age.
Snowy owls are generally monogamous and fiercely protective of their nests, which they make on the tundra well above the Arctic Circle (where they've been seen dive-bombing wolves). The clutch can be from 3 to 11 eggs, depending on the availability of prey that year. The male brings food to the nest for the mother to tear into smaller pieces for the chicks. Both parents continue to feed the owlets for a few weeks after they leave the nest.
One of the more mysterious traits of snowy owls is their variable migration. Some travel, some do not, and some—for reasons not entirely known—will travel far beyond their normal southern range (which, in North America, generally hovers around the US/Canadian border). This phenomenon of extreme, unusual travel, is called an irruption and happens infrequently, maybe once every 4 to 5 years. I love the thought of this, of these owls throwing caution to the wind and ending up in Texas, or Florida, or even the Bahamas (making a splash with their otherworldly polar plumage).
Irruption could be the effect of a banner breeding year. Young owls, bolstered and fattened by plentiful lemmings (the owls’ main food source—they can eat more than 1,600 lemmings a year), fly ever farther south in search of a winter home. The most recent irruption was in 2017–18, so we could be due for another one soon. For now, this year appears to be an average travel year for the owls.
Snowy owls prefer open expanses, and so they’re often spotted on beaches, or airports, or—this year—Central Park, for example. They are diurnal, or active during the day, which is unusual for owls (but makes sense if you consider they live in the Arctic, where the summer sun barely sets).
The excitement over the snowy owl in New York, the first in 130 years, was a kind of irruption—not for the owls exactly but for us—of people turning their attention to snowy owls, clamoring with cameras, curious about the unusual traveler. I can’t imagine what the owl was thinking, but I do wonder about us.
Our radars can be so attuned to the remarkable, and yet we are the main cause of the snowy owls’ decline (hunting, cars, aircraft, infrastructure, and, of course, climate—they will be particularly vulnerable). I wonder how we can apply our energy in ways that would be more beneficial to them. Caring is a leap of imagination, of wonder, of knowledge—and then action. Let’s not wait till the next irruption.
Snowy owl links—
“Snowy Owl Is Spotted in Central Park, for First Time in 130 Years”—The hordes came running and the snow-white raptor became the latest celebrity bird of Manhattan. [New York Times]
Learn about "Baltimore" the snowy owl, caught and tagged in 2013 in this kid-friendly, informative (lovably dorky!) video by NPR that follows the bird's actual route and human encounters.
eBird by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology is such a great resource, lots of videos of snowy owls on beaches here (many from the 2013–14 irruption, which was apparently bananas). I like the one of the owl chilling by a drain pipe, with the waves crashing in the background.
Snowy owl family at The Owl Foundation; watch the parents take good care of their owlets [YouTube]
I wasn’t kidding about snowy owls dive-bombing wolves—here’s a good, short clip of them at BBC Earth.
Speaking of action—
Excellent virtual conference coming up soon: "Taking Nature Black—Call and Response: Elevating our Stories, Naturally!" February 23 through 27. More information and sign up here.
Animal encounters in recent comments—
Susan has the best stories! Here’s her take on the gray wolf.
You can always go back and add your stories to older issues: turkeys, mice, fox, opossum, and others.
Also—
Next week: I’m still thinking about mourning doves, but then I saw four little dark-eyed juncos in the middle of a Nor’easter this week, so I’m going to look at them. (Sorry, dovies, I’ll come back to you I promise.)
My owl drawing is for sale; please reply if you’re interested. I’ll send some of the proceeds to the Owl Research Institute.
Important recent video of a panda sliding in the snow, at the National Zoo, a reminder to keep on rolling [via Facebook]
Thanks so much for reading and sharing—this newsletter is a small weekly adventure about the life around us.
Please don't forget the mourning doves. One call sends me back to the gravelly, dusty backyard of my grandparent's home in Las Animas, Colorado.
I know everyone knows the central park owl, but there was also a snowy owl taking up residence at Shelburne Farms which is a local farm/estate that's open to the public and great. Which apparently was rare but also it's Nothern VT.